


Came to me in colors

by foundthesun



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hands, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nail Polish, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pampering, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundthesun/pseuds/foundthesun
Summary: On a whim, Crowley decides to paint his nails.Aziraphale can't quite help but be curious.





	Came to me in colors

**Author's Note:**

> I need to tangentially thank lovenlu over on tumblr for [this art](https://lovenlu.tumblr.com/post/185870709988/i-could-not-ask-you-where-you-came-from-i-could), because while this story _isn't_ about the absolutely beautiful scene depicted in it, my brain kind of imploded at the artist's choice of giving Crowley black nails. 
> 
> This story was the inevitable rabbit hole I went down after realizing _oh, I like that very, very much_.

Spending the night had not exactly been the plan, but Aziraphale certainly wasn’t complaining, bonelessly relaxed in a way only Crowley could manage to make him. He'd expected his companion would be asleep soon - that was how it all usually worked - but the night proved to be a little different than usual. It wasn't long after they settled in that the demon was suddenly up and out of bed without a single word of warning, leaving the angel to watch him with a surprised look.

"Crowley?" he called out when he was offered no explanation, feeling vaguely unsettled at his sudden move to go. It would be a lie to say he didn't worry sometimes (all the time), despite things being resolved and then some between them. It was the nebulous sort of worry, one without any purchase or reason, the sort he hoped would go away with time but still flared at inopportune moments.

It was one of those inopportune moments.

"I'll be right back," he promised over his shoulder as though sensing he might need to hear it.

Taking him for his word, Aziraphale sighed and simply returned his attention back to the book in his hands, the one he’d been leaving at Crowley's since his staying over started becoming more frequent. A lot of his things had found its way into the stark apartment lately, really, and with him not complaining, he imagined that wouldn’t change any time soon. For once, his heart really wasn't in the reading, and he spent most of the time he was gone trying to keep an eye on the door. It took a few minutes, but sure enough, he returned, as promised, a few items that caught his eye immediately in tow.

One of the things he was holding was most certainly a bottle of nail polish.

Crowley put what he had in his hands on the nightstand next to his side and settled back in, getting comfortable. His nosiness getting the better of him, Aziraphale watched out of the corner of his eye as he started to use what he'd just brought into the room. He was doing his nails, it seemed, on a whim. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him with nail polish adorning his hands, but it was certainly the first time he’d been in his _presence_ when he was doing it.

It didn’t take Crowley a long time to notice he was being stared at. Not even bothering to look up from the clear coating he was putting on himself, he prompted, "Something on your mind, angel?"

He should’ve known he wasn’t being very sneaky.

"Ah, no. Nothing _pressing_ , at least," he assured, not bothering to feign innocence. It wasn’t like it’d been wrong to watch, after all. He glanced over fully now that he knew he'd been caught, gaze flicking from his hands to his face. "I was just watching. I've never seen you do them before."

That'd been it, really. It was _new_.

"Well, it was a choice between doing this or watching you read your book. M'not really tired yet," he explained, casually, though he stopped at that point and was watching him like he gauging his expression for a reaction. “Did you want me to stop?”

Aziraphale frowned at the question, suddenly wondering if his staring had just made him self-conscious.

"No, of course not, dear, don't be silly," he reassured hurriedly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. If anything, it was nice to find himself being privy to something he assumed Crowley usually did in private. There was still so much he didn't know about him, despite their long history constantly being in each other's orbit. "I just - I suppose I always assumed you willed them whatever color you wished. It’d certainly be easier and faster, wouldn’t it?"

"Some things are too rewarding for shortcuts,” Crowley shrugged as if that ought to be obvious. His curious expression crossed his face after he said as much. "…Have _you_ ever done this before?"

Aziraphale hadn’t expected a question to be turned on him. He had specific memories of the few times Crowley had sauntered into his shop decades ago, decked in an outfit that fit the times: leather that hugged every part of him, purposely messy hair, and pitch-black nails. It was hard to forget the look, if only because he spent every second of the few times they crossed paths during that particular _phase_ of his trying to desperately hide how flustered it made him, how often he had to force himself to not let his eyes wander. There’d probably been a passing thought then of what he _might’ve_ looked like in a similar look, nails included, but – well, they were two _very_ different entities.

He shook himself out of the memory, clearing his throat.

"Me? I’d… _considered_ , once or twice, but no, I don't quite think I could pull it off as you do,” he admitted. If he were honest, one of the few things he was always a little jealous of was Crowley’s ability to reinvent himself. The demon had little fear in change when it came to that aspect of his life, where Aziraphale sort of nestled into the comforts of familiarity. “Besides, I'm sure it would've been frowned upon by my side. Uniformity isn't _exactly_ a rule, but I never wanted to give them a reason to look into me."

"Well, that’s a load of absolute bollocks," he griped, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that was in reference to his assumption that it wouldn’t look good on him or that he’d specifically not done it because of what his people would think - knowing him, the answer was probably _both_. He put aside what he’d been putting on before regarding him with an even, pointed look. "What color?"

Aziraphale lifted a surprised brow. "Pardon?"

He rolled his eyes, though he was smiling the sort that was pure mischief, the sort he only had when he was up to something. "Keep up, angel. What color do you want? I can do mine later."

Blanching at the sudden request, he found himself floundering a bit. "Er, I don't – that is, it’s very kind of you to offer, but -"

"Come on, why say no?” Crowley prodded, and oh, Aziraphale knew he was officially not getting out of this at all. “If you don't like it, it's not like it's permanent."

There wasn't even an argument he could attempt with that sort of logic. That was the worst part of it all. He sighed at length.

"You're right,” he relented, watching the smile on Crowley’s face widen. The question of color was one he had to pause at; he hadn’t even begun to consider what would look good. He had half a mind to suggest the demon pick it for him, but if he was playing along, it felt right to settle on something on his own. “Blue, I suppose?"

A simple, pleasant color. It would do.

"Yellow or white would be too on the nose, hmm?" Crowley teased, snapping his fingers and willing another bottle into his hands. He made a thoughtful hum of noise as he lifted the bottle up to his face. The angel blinked, confused until he realized he’d apparently decided on the shade of blue his eyes currently were and…apparently picked it on the first guess. _Oh_. "Perfect. Here, sit up, give me room to sit in front of you."

"You really don't need to waste time doing this,” he pointed out, attempting to give him yet another out. He followed the direction he'd been given despite his protesting, sitting up and pulling his legs closer to his chest so he could cross them in front of him. He was used to Crowley taking ideas and sort of running with them at full speed, but it all felt different somehow with what was happening. He was out of his comfort zone and he was never quite good at dealing with that.

"Oh, do shut up," he scolded, though it had no bite at all in it. His expression softened somewhat after he said it, adding, "Nothing to fuss about. If I'd known you were interested, I'd have done this a long time ago. I’ve…always liked your hands.”

Aziraphale flushed at the unexpected compliment. The thing he’d learned very quickly with the demon that while he loved fully and deeply, he showed it rather than spoke it. The angel hadn’t had any problems hearing his feelings loud and clear without him speaking them, but he certainly couldn’t deny there was some small thrill any time he managed to push past that block, stilted or not. Certainly unable to say no after _that_ , he simply nodded, holding out one hand and waiting to be told what to do.

“Hold it like this?” he asked, attempting to mimic how his hand had been earlier, awaiting confirmation.

“Bit different when you're doing it on someone else. Hold on, I'll show you,” he promised, busying himself in settling on his side now instead and actually pulling his side’s nightstand out a bit so it was easier to reach to put things on it. He ended up fully facing him in a similar posture, close enough that his knees were pressed against Aziraphale’s own. “Would be easier at a table but that’d require getting out of bed.”

He bit back a laugh. “Oh, yes, what a dreadful idea.”

Crowley just smirked, reaching out to take Aziraphale’s hand, and drew it down to rest on top of his own. It quickly became apparent the hand under his was there to steady what he was working on, tangling their hands together in such a way that he easily was able to pinch each finger to keep it still while he worked. He expected to simply have to sit through him throwing some color on his nails and calling it a night. Instead, he found himself watching what he’d eventually realize was a multi-part process, starting with what certainly felt like him cleaning each nail bed.

The particular feeling of being cared for sent warmth through him immediately. Any lingering tension melted away and he simply observed him work with the same interest that had started all of this in the first place. It was hard not to sneak looks towards his face, too, just to see the rare expression of concentration and seriousness creasing his brow.

“Who taught you how to do this?” he asked after a little while, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. It was the first time he looked up since he started, putting aside the bottle with the clear liquid he’d just put on each nail.

“Oh, you know. Person here, person there. Little bit of experimentation thrown in,” he replied, leaning over to grab the blue nail polish. “Why, interested in learning now too?”

Aziraphale smiled at the question. Maybe he'd already been thinking about it just a little. “I suppose we’ll have to see how this turns out. It’s…very relaxing, as you said. All of what you’re doing right now. You seem very good at this.”

Crowley was still absolutely rubbish at being praised. It was fine, he just needed it out there, and he even managed not to laugh at the slightly disgruntled-slash-pleased look the comment earned him before he got back to it. The color portion was much more interesting, if only because he could clearly see the strokes of color he was making. He thought to ask if there was a method to all of it, but it felt almost wrong to pepper the moment with his usual barrage of questions.

He could quietly appreciate the artistry for what it was for once.

Time seemed to lazily float by them. He wasn’t sure how late it was when he finally put the finishing touches on his second hand and finally put the bottle aside and straightened up, stretching his long arms over his head. Aziraphale's gaze flicked appreciatively along his frame before he looked down at his handiwork. The glossy light blue stood out against his pale skin, though he already felt like it was a welcome shock of color. It was also expertly crafted to the point he had to wonder if Crowley had done something to make sure that was the case.

He didn’t ask; let him keep his secrets if he even had them at all. Looking up, he found Crowley was watching him and realized he was waiting for a verdict.

“Not bad, right?” he prompted in a way that made it clear he was hoping that was the case.

It was the sort of thing that made Aziraphale want to reach out and pull him to him, to physically show how much he appreciated him wanting to make him happy. He just wasn't quite sure if it'd ruin the work he done, so he held back for the moment.

“It’s actually quite nice, isn’t it?” he murmured in approval, hoping the beaming smile conveyed what he couldn't quite show. He did lean forward a moment later, adding, half-jokingly, “I feel very rebellious.”

The comment got the intended reaction of Crowley bursting out laughing, the sound sharp and loud and lovely. He'd be insulted if he didn't know exactly how patently ridiculous the idea a single coat of nails could be counted as being rebellious. "Was that the goal, then? Have something you're not telling me?"

Aziraphale smiled, relaxing back into the pillows behind him. "Perhaps not that far. But I am glad you convinced me to try this. You'll do this again, hopefully?"

Crowley had settled beside him again by then, stretching out in a way that so often reminded him of his serpentine nature. He turned his head so he was still looking at him when he replied with a simple, "All you ever need to do is ask, angel."

The earnestness and the layers to the statement, coupled with just how utterly attentive he'd been earlier, was what finally broke him. It wasn't _cheating_ if he only willed the nails to be dry, he reasoned, because he would not wait a single more moment to shift closer to kiss him, the pads of his fingers delicately coming to rest behind his neck, just under his hairline. He lingered after, not quite wanting to pull away completely.

"Thank you," he murmured sweetly, though oh, the phrase never quite seemed to be enough. Not with him.

"Got plenty of other ideas if you're so keen on this one," he offered innocently, even as his expression crossed into something that was nothing short of _suggestive_. The angel huffed out a laugh, smacking his arm, making a show of playful disapproval.

That he found himself _interested_ was not something he'd bring up. Not yet, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me over on [tumblr](https://gottanerdout.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/gottageekout) if you'd like. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Came to me in colors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217448) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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